Royally Disired
by wryter501
Summary: I opened my mouth to say, There can be no place for magic in Camelot, and found I couldn't. Here, in the sacred grove, my magic humming in my veins in tune to the life all around, much more than itself, I could not utter the lie. Accept magic? Or let Mordred die? Maybe the choice was a trap, and the trick was finding the right path. A new direction for episode 5.5 "The Disir".
1. Chapter 1

**Normally I don't hold with transcribing episodes, but for this occasion will make exception – I put it in first person for more interest. Chapter 1 follows the episode, chapter 2 will begin to depart from it. If you don't care to read the episode, skip to chapter 2, I won't mind. **

**Royally Disired **

Arthur pushed through the door of his chamber. I followed, as always, a step behind. "Did you see how Mordred used a contre quarte to my high-line attack?" he threw over his shoulder as he removed his gloves. "It was skillfully done."

"Really," I said, unimpressed.

Arthur tossed his gloves carelessly on the table. "You understand what a contre quarte is, right?"

"I'd guess it's a type of parry beginning in the quarter position," I said, retrieving the gloves and following Arthur, "ending with a twist of the wrist." Years, literally, spent on the training field – did he think I was deaf as well as dumb? Don't ask that out loud.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder as he stepped behind the dressing screen, loosening his belt. "You have been paying attention," he remarked, sounding surprised. "What do you think of young Mordred?" He slapped the belt over the top of the screen, narrowing missing my face.

I opted to state a fact, rather than answering the question asked. "He's, uh, making progress."

"He has all the makings of a fine knight," Arthur continued from behind the screen. "Don't you think?"

Arthur was not the only one in the room who had learned something of diplomacy. "There are many fine knights in Camelot."

"Yes, but if I'm not mistaken, he'll be one of the finest. And I'm determined he will receive nothing but encouragement from me." This time it was the coat soaring over the dressing screen, and this time it did hit me in the head.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

"You think he's not ready?" Gaius said, handing a book up to me.

"It's not that," I demurred. "He's an excellent swordsman."

"You think he's too young. Too headstrong."

I shelved the book. "He's always been thoughtful and modest." Again I chose to diplomatically state a truth, while not answering the question asked.

"Well, he sounds perfect, Merlin," the old man observed.

I looked down on my mentor over the railing of the stair. "I can't ignore what I saw." I accepted another book from Gaius' hand. "Gaius, Mordred is destined to play a part in Arthur's death."

Gaius looked up at me. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. The future has many paths. That is only one." I twisted to place the book on the shelf. "Have you ever seen him show anything but kindness towards Arthur?"

"No, but –"

Gaius turned back from the table with another volume. "If Mordred wished Arthur ill, he's had ample opportunity to do so. He's a likeable boy, Merlin."

"I know. I like him myself," I admitted, then repeated stubbornly, "But I can't ignore what I saw."

"Seeing is not the same as knowing," Gaius said as I collected a new stack of books for study and descended the stair. "And we must know for certain before we act."

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Leon strode into the room, wearing chainmail and red cape, as were all the knights seated at the table. Arthur hailed him, "What news from the east, Sir Leon?"

Leon took his place to Arthur's left, next to Percival. "Serious news, I'm afraid, sire. As you know, a few days ago our garrison in the forest of Breckfire intercepted a man who goes by the name of Osgar."

"The sorcerer," Arthur said, dispassionately stating a fact, but in my place several feet behind Percival, I crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

"The same," Leon answered. "They were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape. I'm sorry to report Sir Ranulf was mortally wounded."

"Sir Ranulf?" Arthur repeated. "He was a loyal and true knight. Place all the men in the eastern territories on high alert."

Leon nodded. "Yes, sire."

At the head of the table, Arthur stood – and when their king stood, the knights did the same. "I personally shall lead a patrol," Arthur said, "to bring this Osgar to justice."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Of course he would.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

The other knights were teasing Mordred, I was sure, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. They had their youngest member double-checking his gear nervously, when Arthur passed between them and me. "You sure this is a good idea?" I said.

Knowing what I meant, as he often did, Arthur glanced at Mordred before responding, "He's a good fighter, a brave knight."

I observed softly, "He's very young." Hint, hint. _Take_ a damn hint for once, Arthur.

"Where would any of us be, Merlin, if no one had given us a chance?" Arthur swung himself up into his saddle. "Gentlemen," he called to the knights, and turned his horse's head to lead them from the courtyard.

I had only just settled into my own saddle when Guinevere, on the steps to watch us leave, and resplendent in purple silk, said, "Merlin." I reined in, waiting. "You will take care of him?" she said.

"Doesn't always make it easy," I reminded her.

"I know," she answered.

Arthur called across the courtyard, "Merlin?" I turned again and trotted my horse, past Mordred at the rear of the line towards Arthur at its head.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Gwaine, riding in the point position, held up one gloved hand as a signal for us to halt, before dismounting for a closer look at the track we followed. "It's Osgar," he reported. "He's close."

Moments later, Percival plucked a scrap of cloth from a broken twig to show the king. "He's getting careless," he said.

Mordred pointed down a wide grassy lane with his sword. "Sire." We all swung about to see a hooded, cloaked figure darting back under the trees.

The knights immediately split up, Elyan and Gwaine ranging out on our left flank, while Percival and Leon went right. Arthur and Mordred made their cautious way up the open lane, me just behind them. We continued for some time, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. It was, after all, a sorcerer we were tracking. I wasn't concerned with catching him so much as I was concerned about him attacking Arthur at some point.

And then a twig cracked behind us.

We whirled to see the cloaked man, somehow _behind_ us now, and I felt grudgingly respectful of his woodcraft. I would never have been able to manage that without using magic. "Stop!" Arthur commanded, as he and Mordred rushed to menace the man with drawn swords.

"Sire," the stranger said, stumbling. One hand was red with blood. He knelt – or fell, maybe. "My name is Osgar."

"I know who you are," Arthur said, stepping close enough to touch the tie of the sorcerer's cloak with the point of his sword.

"I am sent," Osgar said, "from the sacred Disir to pass judgment on Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king."

_Once and future king_. My nerves tingled, but I said nothing. Who or what was the Disir?

Mordred said, evidently as ignorant in this respect as I was, "What right have you to pass judgment?"

"No man is above the Disir, however royal," Osgar told Mordred, and turned back to the king. "It is my duty to pass their judgment on to you, dread king." He reached into his cloak. "My sacred duty."

Mordred took two steps to add his blade to that of Arthur already threatening the sorcerer on his knees. Osgar glanced at Mordred, then his hand emerged with a palm-sized gold disc, inscribed with runes. Arthur let his sword drop, nodded at Mordred to do the same, and the youngest knight obediently drew back his weapon.

"Your hand, Arthur Pendragon." Arthur extended his left hand, and Osgar placed the coin into the fine black leather of the glove with both of his hands, bloodstained and dirty. "It is done," he breathed.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur questioned.

"It is both judgment and fate. You have waged war on the people of the old religion." I thought maybe Osgar spoke in short sentences because he couldn't manage more, and wondered at the blood on his hand. How bad was the wound? Was I going to be allowed to treat it? "Now the ancient gods answer you. The Disir have spoken. The circle of fate begins to close. For even as Camelot flowers, the seeds of her destruction are being sown."

The words resonated in my soul, but I kept my face expressionless as Arthur turned to me. "What nonsense is this?" Arthur said with faint exasperation.

Osgar grabbed his hand. "It is not too late, Arthur," he said, almost begging. "Not too late to find the true path. Redeem yourself. No further chance shall be given." He collapsed sideways as he spoke, then winced and released Arthur's hand. He clutched at his side, and laid his head on the sward as if going gently to his rest. Then he was still. That answered that question. My skills wouldn't be needed, anymore.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

I piled rocks over the grave, one upon another. A twig snapped behind me and I whirled to see Mordred, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "What would the king say?" the young knight asked. "Sorcerers are not permitted marked graves." He moved closer. I stood, wary, and Mordred knew it, though he misinterpreted the cause. "It's all right, Merlin – I'd have done the same." We stood side by side, an unusual occurrence, looking down at the pitiful pile of rocks.

"It won't always be like this," I said, as much to reassure myself as to tell Mordred. "One day we'll live in freedom again."

Mordred gave me a sidelong glance, at odds with the yearning innocence in his voice. "You really believe that?"

"I do."

"Until then, we go unmarked in death as in life." Mordred looked at me and gave a small, enigmatic chuckle.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

In the darkness, I inspected Gwaine's injury mostly by touch. "Swelling should go down by morning," I predicted. It was a good thing Gwaine had a hard head.

"Let's hope so," Gwaine responded.

Arthur glanced up from his reclined position as I moved closer to the fire. "How is he?" the king asked.

"I've applied poultices," I answered, my back to the rest of them. "They'll make a full recovery."

"You're a skilled physician, Merlin," Mordred complimented me. The last thing I wanted to hear from the last person I wanted to hear it from.

I glanced over my shoulder. "I've watched Gaius, that's all."

Arthur relaxed on one elbow. "He also makes a very fine breakfast as you'll soon discover, eh, Merlin?" I didn't answer. In my opinion, cooking skills and doctoring skills were about as dissimilar as could be. Arthur remarked in a loud whisper, which I was meant to hear, "Now I've offended him." Mordred chuckled. "Come, Merlin, warm yourself. Have a drink," Arthur said, sitting up. "To young Mordred on his first successful mission."

The other knights raised their cups to salute and toast the youngest of them. Mordred said, "It was nothing."

"It was timely and vigilant," Arthur contradicting, drinking the toast. "Merlin?"

"Congratulations," I made myself say. Another sorcerer was dead, and this time it was one who wasn't vengeful. Arthur, possibly now under a fate, a sentence, congratulated his newest knight, a Druid with magic. It was hard for me to keep the irony from my tone.

"If he died and was granted eternal happiness," Arthur teased, "I do believe he'd find reason to be miserable. Come, Merlin, we've triumphed."

I could not help stating a truth. "Osgar could have easily killed you."

"He didn't, did he?" Arthur neatly side-stepped my assertion.

"But he was a sorcerer. It was quite within his power." Why was I saying this? Wouldn't it be counter-productive to persuade Arthur of the threat Osgar could have posed?

"He was _deranged_," Arthur said.

"The rune mark," I reminded him.

Arthur held it up in the firelight. "A trinket. Nothing more. Here." He tossed it to me, and – sometimes, it seemed – I could catch, after all. "I'll have the jeweler mount it as a memento of our success."

I couldn't repress a shiver. That sounded much more like a comment Uther would make, than his son.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Back in Camelot, I led Arthur through the castle, though we both knew the way to Gaius' chambers; this way the king could not see my face.

"Are you feeling all right, Merlin?" Arthur asked as we passed through a doorway and started down the hall.

"Quite, my lord," I answered expressionlessly.

"I think more and more I find your face resembles the back end of a cat," Arthur observed teasingly. I didn't respond. "See, you don't even laugh at my jokes anymore. Seriously." He stopped, and I continued a few paces before stopped to face him. "I haven't seen you smile these past three days."

"I'm not sure there's a great deal to smile about." That mythological sword, hanging by a thread… was hanging over _his_ head.

Arthur rolled his eyes, sighing, and we continued on to Gaius' chambers, where I opened the door for my king, and closed it behind us. My old mentor turned the coin marker as we entered, then rose in respect for his sovereign. "Thank you for coming," he said, gesturing to the chair waiting opposite his. "Please."

"Don't tell me Merlin's got you believing his nonsense too, Gaius," Arthur said, seating himself.

Gaius showed him the disc. "This is a rune mark, my lord."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Arthur interjected, glancing up at me. I crossed my arms defensively.

"In times past, this mark aroused great fear," Gaius continued. "It was given to those found wanting by the court of the Disir."

"The Disir?" I said, my eyes on Arthur, willing him to take this seriously.

"The highest court of the old religion," Gaius explained. "Three women were chosen at birth to be trained as seers and soothsayers. Their only task was to interpret the word of the Triple Goddess. When they sat in judgment, their word was final."

"All this worn-out superstition has no relevance now," Arthur protested. "I don't see what bearing it has on me or Camelot."

"Because, sire," Gaius said gravely, "the Disir have seen fit to give you this. This is the judgment of the gods against you."

Arthur looked at him for a moment. "This is nonsense, surely," he said quietly.

"The old religion held that the rune mark not only contained the man's guilt, but the path that the gods have chosen for him. That is why it is both judgment and fate."

Arthur pushed himself up as Gaius finished speaking. "I make my own path," he stated, walking away.

"Do you?" Gaius called after him, and he turned. "It is said that only the gods can alter a man's fate. And even then, only when he repents and appeases them."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he came closer again. "You don't believe any of this? Gaius?"

My mentor glanced at me. I couldn't have moved if I'd tried, through the conversation, just hugged my arms still crossed over my chest. Then he laid the coin down on an open book on the desktop. "I'm an old man, sire. Old enough to be wary of dismissing other people's beliefs."

Arthur picked up the coin, rubbing his thumb over it in troubled thoughtfulness.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Arthur picked at the fastening of his red coat. "Have I not made Camelot a fairer and more just kingdom?" He posed the question in the privacy of his own chamber. I stood attendant with the king's chainmail over one arm.

"You have, my lord," I answered.

"Have I not rid it of the cruelties and injustices of the past?" Absently, he opened the wardrobe door to put the coat away.

I hesitated, but only for a single instant. "You have."

"I am not my father."

"No."

"Then why do they judge me so?" Arthur stuffed the coat into the wardrobe.

"I'm not sure I'm the person to ask," I said. Not this time, not about this…

"I _am_ asking you, Merlin," Arthur shut the wardrobe door, crossed to retrieve his belt from it's place on the dressing screen. "Man to man."

I shrugged slightly, shifted my weight. "Well, perhaps I feel you're worthy enough to be judged."

Arthur looked at him. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Judgment is wasted on a man who won't listen," I observed.

"You think I should take them seriously."

"I think you already have." I waited a moment, then ventured, "If there's nothing else –" There was something I needed to do, someone I needed to talk to.

"No, thank you."

I left Arthur's chamber, left the citadel and the city, striding through the forest to roar my command and my summons in the tongue of dragons.

"You were right to summon me, Merlin," Kilgarrah said, his eyes fairly gleaming in the dark of the night. "The Disir are the mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess. It is she who has decreed Arthur's fate."

"What is it to be?" I said grimly, intent on specifics.

"The rune mark predicts Arthur's death."

"When?" I demanded. The dragon didn't answer, so I repeated, more forcefully, "When will Arthur die?"

"The future is never clear, Merlin," Kilgarrah reminded me. "You should know that by now. There are many paths. Not all lead to Camelot's ruin."

"Do they lead to Mordred?" I suggested.

"The druid boy? His fate and Arthur's are bound together like ivy wound around a tree."

"I fear he is dangerous," I said, thinking out loud.

"There is good cause to doubt him."

I took a step forward, though I was already craning my neck to look up at the great beast. "Is there nothing I can do?" I asked, quietly, desperately, determinedly.

"Sometimes, to save the tree, the ivy must be cut," Kilgarrah said ruthlessly. "You had a chance to kill the druid boy once before. If you have another – you must not fail."

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

A hard and persistent knocking woke me, and I hurried down from my room to the main chamber. "Is it late? Have I overslept?" I called to Gaius.

"Not yet dawn," Gaius answered, in a tone that sounded as puzzled as I felt. The old man turned to answer the door, still in his nightshirt. "My lord?" he said as Arthur entered, still dressed.

"Where can I find the Disir?" Arthur said without preamble.

"Sire, I-"

"Gaius, if anyone knows where to find them it's you," Arthur said, facing him tiredly.

"Until yesterday, I didn't know they still existed," Gaius protested.

"They do, as we know." Arthur held up the rune mark. "So again – where can I find them?"

"Sire, I do not think it is wise for –"

"Gaius," Arthur interrupted, somewhat sternly, "do I look like a man to trifle with?"

Gaius sighed. "It is said that the Disir divine using an ancient pool. In turn the pool is fed by the sacred spring at Calandry. The source of the spring is a grove of yew trees in the White Mountains. The grove at Breneved."

"Thank you." Arthur looked at me. "We leave within the hour."

Arthur left, but I didn't move. "Be careful, Merlin," Gaius said, coming to where I stood. "I don't know what you'll encounter. But the old ways will be at their strongest there. The calandry is at the very center of their powers."

Within the hour, as Arthur had commanded, I stood in the square and watched in dismay as Mordred, dressed in chainmail and red cape as the other knights were, walked his horse, saddled and provisioned as the other knights' horses were, to Arthur. "My lord," he said. "You are going to the White Mountains?"

"I am," Arthur answered, occupied with checking his gear.

"Then I humbly petition to come with you."

"This is not for novices, Mordred," Arthur responded without turning.

"Did I not serve you well?" Mordred persisted.

"You did."

"Then I will do again."

Arthur finally turned. "There is no mere sorcerer this time, Mordred. Our mission is dangerous. In ways we cannot perhaps imagine."

"Then you will need good men by your side," Mordred reasoned. "Let me serve. Let me do my duty."

When Arthur looked over at me, I pretended to busy myself with my stirrup, acting as if I hadn't heard. "Merlin, see to it he has everything he needs." Mordred smiled, and I nodded silently.

And once again, we rode out. Through forest, across the moors, down into the valley where the grove was easily distinguished from the wooded area surrounding. At last making our way on foot into the grove itself, we came upon a dark hole in the hillside. Arthur, in the lead, held up one hand. "Stay close. Know your positions," he reminded us, before moving forward.

"My lord," I said in a low voice. I was just behind Arthur, as close as I could get without actually touching the king.

"What is it, Merlin?"

"This place is sacred."

"It's a cave, Merlin," Arthur pointed out.

"It's more than that."

"Any one cave is the same as any other." It was times like these that I regretted our habitually flippant banter, when Arthur refused to consider the momentous significance of what I was trying to convey.

"You can't go armed into a sacred place." Please, please listen to me.

Arthur stopped and looked at me. "You want us to go in there unarmed?" I glanced at the cave, and said nothing. If Arthur knew my secret, my magic, he would know, with all the swords left right here, we would not be entering the cave unarmed. But Arthur said to me, "Of all the ridiculous things that you've ever said, Merlin – there's been a few – that's the most ridiculous. By far." The king continued, and Elyan and Percival passed me to follow. When Mordred passed me, too, I began to move again.

The knights entered the cave boldly, moving aside several wooden figures hanging from the ceiling. Percival, the biggest of the knights, caught one as it swung back into him, yanked it down and discarded it, to be crunched by the boots passing. We slowed as we came into a larger cavern; by now I was at the back, reluctant in my very soul to enter the place.

Three women stood, staves in hand, dressed in dark blue robes that obscured every detail of their person, even to the hoods that shadowed all of their face but the mouth. Reflections of light from the surface of the pool in front of them flickered weirdly.

"I am Arthur Pendragon. King of Camelot." Arthur held up the mark. "I've come to know the meaning of this." He flipped the disc to land in the dust between us and the three women. "Grove of Breneved is in the kingdom of Camelot, subject to its laws, its decrees. Every man, however humble, however noble, has the right to be judged only by his peers. Yet you judge me in my absence. Explain yourself."

The woman in the middle, half a step forward from the other two, stated, "We do not judge."

The one on the right continued, "We do not condemn."

The third said, "We are but the internuncio of the one who presides over all."

"Who sees all."

"Who knows all." Together they pronounced, "The Triple Goddess." The central figure added, "And you, Arthur Pendragon, have angered her."

"How so?" Arthur asked evenly. "Have I not been an honorable king? Have I not made Camelot a fair and just kingdom?"

They answered, one after another, "So much is true."

"But you have denied the old religion."

"Dismissed its faith."

"Persecuted its followers."

"Even unto slaughter."

"I fight against sorcery," Arthur said, in the tone of one who found himself explaining something that should already be clear, "superstition, that's all."

"Embrace the ways of the old religion, Arthur," he was advised.

"Or risk the ire of the goddess."

"The destruction of everything you most value."

"The end of your reign."

"The fall of Camelot itself."

"I refuse to be judged by those who do not know me," Arthur said, and I could tell he was beginning to be irritated.

"You are known, Arthur. You have always been known." The middle figure spoke, and I thought with dread that she was beginning to lose her temper also. "And now you come here to the most sacred of the sacred. To the very heart of the old religion. With weapons drawn."

"Trampling hallowed relics," added another.

"Treating our sacred spaces like you do your kingdom. With arrogance."

"With conceit." Their voices were colder, malicious, vindictive.

"With insolence."

"Enough!" Gwaine, it seemed, had reached the limit of his patience, and stepped forward. "You speak of the king!"

The middle figure raised her chin slightly, and Gwaine was thrown violently backwards. In an instant, every sword was drawn. "On me!" Arthur ordered, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than the woman on the left had thrown her staff like a javelin, straight at Arthur. At the very moment that I began to stop the flight of the weapon, Mordred leaped from the side to protect his king – and fell to the floor, injured.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, and he pushed forward. Surely the king's call had been for my skill as a physician to tend a wounded man, but somehow I found myself the rear guard, facing the angry Disir, as the other knights gathered their fallen comrade. Arthur called a hoarse order, "Fall back!"

The middle figure threw her staff. I had but to look at it to direct it harmlessly into the cave wall. The staff clattered to rest on the floor, and the figure for the first time lifted her head to meet my eyes. _Emrys_?

I held her gaze a moment longer, then turned and followed my king.

**I've left the first two scenes in, though they don't bear directly on the plotline of Osgar – the coin - the Disir, because this story is as much about Mordred's fate as it is about Arthur's or Merlin's.**

**Other scenes were not included because Merlin wasn't present.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is going to follow the episode… until it doesn't. **

**Royally Disired – part 2**

_I held her gaze a moment longer, then turned and followed my king. _

I rushed down the hillside to the place where Arthur and Percival supported Mordred, only about half-conscious as I swiftly inspected the wound as best I could through the layer of chainmail.

"How is he?" Arthur demanded.

"It's not a simple wound. Sorcery's involved." It was happening again, just as the dragon said. _You_ _had a chance – if you have another_…

"Is there anything you can do?"

I didn't immediately answer. _You must not fail_. Finally I said, "This is beyond my skills, sire." It was the truth, insofar as Arthur was aware of my skills. Without magic, I could do nothing for Mordred. And I was surrounded by the king and half a dozen knights. How _could_ I use magic? I said, "We need to get him back to Camelot."

"That's a long and arduous journey," Arthur protested. "What if he doesn't survive it?"

"Look. I fear that Gaius is the only one that can save him_." _I cannot, I cannot! Even if I cannot kill him, I cannot save him either!

Arthur nodded, looked up at the other knights standing in a circle around the three of them. "Mount up. We ride for Camelot."

That night, Mordred was placed next to the campfire. As I knelt to lay my hand on the druid boy's forehead to check him for fever from infection, Arthur said, "He grows worse." He was seated somewhat separate from the group, nearer to the youngest knight than any other.

"There has been little change," I said, then stood and began to move away.

"I should never have let him come," Arthur said.

I stopped – one of Arthur's weaknesses was a tendency to blame himself when things went wrong. "He wanted to prove himself," I reminded the king.

"And he has." Arthur studied Mordred. "He saved my life for the second time."

He looked down on his friend, gazing with remorse and gratitude at the one I had foreseen plunging a sword deep into Arthur's body, taking the life he had just saved.

I couldn't help but think_, _I have lost count of how many times. Silently, I crouched down to keep Arthur company in his self-imposed vigil.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Gaius and Arthur sat over Mordred, bandaged and unconscious on the patient cot in the old physician's chamber, Gaius on a bench and Arthur, still in full armor, on a stool opposite. I sat by the window.

Gaius removed his hand from Mordred's forehead. "Merlin is right," he said. "This is no ordinary wound. There is magic at play."

Arthur leaned forward on his knees. "Can you save him?"

"I'm but a physician," Gaius answered. "There are limits to my knowledge."

Arthur shook his head, unwilling to take no for an answer. "But there must be something that can be done."

"Perhaps. I shall do everything in my power, sire."

Arthur stood. "Let me know the moment he improves. Or…"

Gaius understood what he could not say, and promised, "I shall." He looked at me as the door closed behind the king. "Only your magic can save him, Merlin."

I didn't move. I couldn't look away from Mordred's body. "I cannot save the life of a man destined to kill Arthur."

"If Mordred is destined to take the king's life," Gaius questioned gently, "then why has he just saved it?"

"I cannot ignore what the dragon said."

Gaius sat back, crossed his arms. "What happened to the young boy who came into my chambers just a few years ago?" he asked.

I met his eyes for the first time. That was unfair, I thought. "He grew up," I said. "And he learned the meaning of duty."

Later, I followed the old physician to Arthur's quarters. "Yes?" Arthur said in answer to Gaius' quick rap on the door. I followed my mentor inside, where the king waited hopefully, Gwen behind him at the window.

"Sire." Gaius bowed, clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Is there any news?" Arthur asked. I closed the door behind us, and the king's face fell at the unmistakable meaning of our silence. "I thought that once we got him back to Camelot, in your care –"

"The staff that caused the wound was forged using powerful sorcery," Gaius said.

"All the same –"

"The poison that runs through his veins is beyond remedy."

"There must be," Arthur paused, "_something_ you can do." I wondered if he'd suggest using magic, as he had when it was Uther that lay dying.

"I'm afraid not," Gaius answered. "Only the Disir themselves have the power to counteract their own sorcery. I'm afraid we must prepare ourselves for the worst."

"I'll go to them," Arthur said suddenly.

"Sire, I do not think that –"

Arthur continued, "And beg for mercy." He transferred his attention to me. "Prepare the horses. We leave at once."

I regained my presence of mind just in time to open the door of Arthur's chamber for the king to pass through. Not an hour later, we rode out, the two of us. Rode hard, without speaking until once again we were entering the grove on foot.

"Why do you risk so much for one man?" I asked, desperate and tired.

"I'd do the same for any knight," Arthur declared.

"Though obviously," I added, somewhat curious, "not me."

"Actually I would," Arthur corrected me. "Servants are hard to come by, even the bad ones."

"I'm touched." I ducked under a branch.

"Mordred saved my life," Arthur said. "What greater debt can there be?"

"A debt to your people," I reminded him. "To your destiny."

"You almost sound as if you care," Arthur said.

"I do care. About who you are, Arthur, who you are destined to become." If it was anyone but Mordred, I thought ironically, I'd be hurrying Arthur along to bargain for their life.

"It's fated," Arthur said. "It doesn't matter what I do. It'll still happen."

That sounded familiar. I said, desperately, my mouth dry, "There's a different between fate and destiny." I came alongside Arthur as he stopped.

"You think too much, Merlin," Arthur told me. "The situation's quite simple. A brother-in-arms saves my life. When he in turn is threatened, it's my duty to do all I can to save him."

The cave was before us, too soon to suit me. Arthur stopped, unsheathed his sword, laid it down on a mossy rock next to him. I looked at him. "I'm not totally insensitive, Merlin," Arthur said. "I can see that some people feel that this is a sacred place. I'm even prepared to admit that you're right sometimes. Obviously, I'll deny ever saying that."

"Obviously," I repeated in a murmur, following.

Making our way through the tunnel toward the main cavern, we were both careful to touch none of the hanging wooden figures.

"Arthur Pendragon," the central figure greeted them. "King of Camelot."

"We have been expecting you," one of the others added.

Arthur – extraordinarily – knelt. "My men and I behaved with arrogance and stupidity. We dishonored this place and insulted your faith. And I humbly beg your forgiveness. One amongst us, Sir Mordred, may yet pay the ultimate price. I've come here to petition you for his life."

"Why should we help you?" one of the women asked.

"I ask not for myself but for a young man whose only crime was to sacrifice himself for his king," Arthur pointed out. Respectfully.

"The future holds much pain and suffering for you, Arthur Pendragon," he was told.

"For you and your people."

"If you wish to save all you hold dear."

"If you wish to save your kingdom."

"Embrace the old religion."

"Learn her ways."

"Bow to the goddess."

He said quietly, "You know I can't do that."

"Consider carefully," the figure in the middle told him. "You have until dawn."

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

I returned to their campsite with an armful of wood. "How did you know this place was sacred?" Arthur asked me. He was reclining on the ground, head back to look up at the stars, knees pulled up.

"That's obvious," I said, laying down my burden next to the fire.

"Pretend it isn't," Arthur told me.

"Everything here," I said, looking around. "So full of life. Every tree. Every leaf. Every insect." I couldn't help the little smile that came to my face, even when Arthur raised his head to stare at me. "It's as if the world is – vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself."

Arthur said, "You feel all that?"

"Don't you?" I said curiously, and Arthur shook his head. My smile slipped – do nothing to arouse suspicion, I reminded myself, and retreated to my place opposite, resting on the ground. "What will you do?" I asked him.

Arthur shifted. "I don't know. My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred. But I've seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In my own time, Morgana's used it for nothing but evil." Arthur paused, then added, "What would you do? In my place?"

"Me?" I said. "I'm just a lackey, a maker of beds."

"Lackeys can be wise." I tried to speak, and couldn't. In truth, I didn't know what to say. Here, in this place, if I once got started, I was afraid the whole truth about my magic would come spilling out. Arthur observed, "It's not like you to be silent."

"The kingdom's future is at stake," I managed. And yours. And mine.

"And a man's life," Arthur reminded me, bringing the question once more to the fate of the druid boy, ivy intertwined with the king.

"You must protect Camelot. You must protect the world you have spent your life building. A just and fair kingdom for all." I thought, distantly, that I sounded something like Gaius, speaking in generalizations when he did not want to be pinned down on a direct answer.

"You'd have me sacrifice a friend?" Arthur persisted.

A friend, or an enemy? "I would have you become the king you're destined to be."

Arthur sat forward. "If I do save Mordred, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?"

My heart pounded. I had trouble breathing. Reign, no. But _live_, yes.

"Perhaps my father was wrong," Arthur said, thinking out loud. "Perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought. So what should we do?" I felt tears start to my eyes. I bit my lip and didn't answer. "Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?" Arthur finished.

I couldn't believe it had come to this. What wouldn't I give to be having this conversation under any other circumstances? Where I'd be free to pour out my heart and encourage Arthur to do the right thing. Free those who wished to follow the old religion, that placed no restrictions on the rest.

But then there was Mordred. _You must not fail. If you have another chance, you must not fail._

I opened my mouth to say, There can be no place for magic in Camelot, and found I couldn't. Here, in the sacred grove, my magic humming in my veins in tune to the life all around, much more than itself, I could not utter the lie. Instead I muttered, "Why don't we sleep on it?"

Arthur sat back, a strange thoughtful look on his face.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

I steeled myself, gritted my teeth against the clamor of magic in my ears, and told Arthur firmly, "There can be no place for magic in Camelot."

We made our way once again to the cave, once again leaving Arthur's blade behind. And stood before the three.

"You have returned," the central figure observed. "Is your decision made?"

"It is," Arthur answered. "I cannot do as you ask. I've seen too much to allow sorcery again within Camelot."

"You have made your decision."

"Sealed your fate."

"And that of your kingdom." Together they said, "Farewell, Arthur Pendragon."

We rode through the sunny field approaching the castle as we had so many times in the past. The bells tolled as we reached the courtyard and dismounted. Arthur handed his reins to an attendant and turned, but stopped. I looked up – and my dream became a nightmare.

Mordred stood at the top of the stair, wearing his chainmail armor, his red knight's cape, and his own enigmatic smile. Strong and well.

My heart dropped.

Arthur strode forward as Mordred hurried down the stairs. The two clasped hands, embraced joyfully.

How could I have been so stupid?

I stood with Gaius in an upstairs corridor, looking down through the window upon the training green, where Arthur was sparring with the young druid boy once again. "I assumed the best way to protect Arthur was to kill Mordred," I said.

"A perfectly natural assumption," Gaius said, attempting to reassure me.

I was having none of it. "But all I did was to make sure he lived. That was the Disir's judgment. Mordred's life is Arthur's punishment for rejecting magic."

"You mustn't blame yourself," Gaius said.

"But it is my fault. Mordred is alive and well. He's free to play his part in Arthur's death and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. Nothing."

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

I woke, gasping, drowning, for a moment, in the excess of magic-infused life in the grove. Beside me, the fire popped, sparked, and Arthur shifted in his sleep. I watched my hands tremble, and forced myself to lay back. That was it, then. A question answered.

I took a deep breath, then another, and relaxed by inches. Now the way was clear. Now I knew what the answer was, and what I must do. I closed my eyes on the living, breathing darkness and went back to sleep.

Arthur kicked the soles of my boots. "When you said we should sleep on it, Merlin, I didn't know you intended to sleep all morning," the king said.

I stretched, feeling more worn and drawn than I had when I'd fallen asleep. "Well, it worked," I said. "I have an answer for you. Accept the magic. Do as the Disir say."

Arthur studied me, the same thoughtful measuring look on his face. "Any particular reason for your choice?" he asked.

Yes! I have magic! I am magic! I sat up as Arthur sat down. I hesitated, not knowing quite how to say what I was thinking without insulting Arthur's father, or making the issue personal to myself. A light breeze flowed down the little valley, like the cool little stream where Lancelot had once placed me to be healed by the vilia. Stream… river…

"Magic and sorcery are – not the same thing," I said. Arthur's eyes narrowed, but he twirled his finger as an indication for me to continue. "Magic is a fact, a force – sorcery is what is done with it. Do you see? Magic is like a river, in some places deep or shallow, clear or murky. It can be dangerous, it can be life-giving. A sorcerer – uses the magic, the actions and motivations as good or evil as any other person's. The decisions your father made acted as a – dam upon the river. It isn't gone. It's simply formed a reservoir, waiting to be used. You've seen the spillage, if you will, the resentful, the vengeful…"

"You would have me tear down the dam?" Arthur said, arching one eyebrow. "You know the damage that can do, even in a metaphor?"

"No, of course not," I said. "Just – maybe – a slow, careful dismantling? Freedom within limits? I mean, sorcerers are just people, too – subject to laws and decrees."

"There is wisdom in that," Arthur said, nodding.

I joked, "Lackeys can be wise."

"Come," Arthur said. "Let's give them our decision."

_Our decision_. I felt a warmth inside that had nothing to do with my magic or the grove.

"I accept the terms you placed upon my petition for the life of Sir Mordred," Arthur told the Disir. "I embrace the old religion. I bow to the goddess. I will learn her ways."

"Camelot will stand," we were told. "Your reign will be long."

I thought, somewhat defiantly, Pleasure doing business with you.

We rode through the sunny field approaching the castle as we had so many times in the past. The bells tolled as we reached the courtyard and dismounted. Arthur handed his reins to an attendant and turned, but stopped. I looked up – and my dream became a nightmare.

Gaius stood alone at the top of the stairs, stern and solemn. "What's wrong, Gaius?" Arthur called. "Where is Mordred?"

Gaius descended the stairs. "Sir Mordred worsened early this morning," he told them. "He breathed his last over five hours ago."

"He is _dead_?" Arthur repeated, astonished. I drew in what seemed like my first free breath since we'd left for the fortress of Ismere, so many months ago.

Gaius nodded. "I regret that you –"

Arthur interrupted by whirling around on me, one gloved finger pointing in my face, the king's eyes blazing with a fury rarely seen. "This is all _your_ doing," he hissed. "I never should have trusted them. _Witches_! Evil, and false and treacherous! My father was _right_ about sorcery! There will be no changes - the laws and the ban will stand. And you –" his eyes seemed to bore a hole right through me – "you will never mention the subject to me again, are we clear?"

I opened my mouth to say something, what I did not know – Mordred was destined to kill you, his death ensures your life! Keep the bargain, I beg you! – and Arthur backhanded me across the face.

"Keep your silence," the king ordered me in a stony voice. "And keep your place."

Shocked, l looked at Gaius, but the old man had his head bowed, his eyes down, as if he had seen nothing.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Arthur put out his hand again to pat my cheek. "Merlin," he said. "Merlin!"

I found myself on my back on the ground, the smell of woodsmoke and earth all around, Arthur kneeling over me, magic swirling in a confusion of excess. Startled and expecting another blow, I attempted to shuffle away from Arthur on my back.

"Easy." Arthur held up both hand to show they were empty, straightening. "You had nightmares, too?" he asked in a sardonic tone, but he looked as tired as I felt. I sat up slowly. Arthur stood, hands on his hips, staring in the direction of the cave. "You know, Merlin, it occurs to me that neither choice is a good one."

I snorted. "Maybe they're not supposed to be," I said. Maybe the choice was a trap. _Not too late to find the true path, redeem yourself_, Osgar had said. _The future has many paths, seeing is not the same as knowing,_ Gaius had said. And Kilgarrah, _the future is never clear, there are many paths, not all lead to Camelot's ruin_.

The trick was finding the right path.

Arthur swung around to give me a look from those piercing blue eyes. "You mean it might be more like a riddle than a choice?" he said. "What should I say?"

Or the illusion of a choice. I remembered the images I'd seen of Morgana in the Crystal Cave. None of my choices had prevented those images coming to pass, and yet – it had not ended with Uther's death, as I had thought, though _that_ image had never been explicit, had it?

"Say – whatever is in your heart," I blurted. "Whatever you believe, whatever is right. Whatever is best for – for Camelot."

Arthur stood staring at me as if astonished I could put two words together in a coherent sentence. Or as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time. Then he looked toward the cave with new determination. "Come, Merlin," he said, and I scrambled up the path behind him.

Once again, Arthur left his sword at the entrance to the cave, and once again, both of us made our way cautiously and respectfully along the passage to the cavern.

"You have returned," the central figure observed. "Is your decision made?"

"It is. I cannot do as you ask."

I found I was trembling with the tension.

"Consider carefully, Arthur Pendragon."

"This is your last chance to save all that is dear to you."

"It will not come again."

Arthur straightened. "I cannot embrace the old religion. I will not learn the old ways. I will not bow to the goddess. But I will not stop others who wish to do so – peacefully. I have not changed much in the laws of Camelot since I have become king, but I can and I will review what laws may be considered – harsh or unfair. I will allow no evil…but I can re-evaluate what is considered evil. More I cannot do. I am king of Camelot, and I cannot bow to the whims of _any_ group of people because they hold the life of one of my knights in their hands."

Arthur took a deep breath, and I found that with all I had to be proud of him for, over our years together, I was never more proud than that moment.

"You have made your decision," said the figure in the middle, after a moment.

"Sealed your fate."

"And that of your kingdom." Together they said, "Farewell, Arthur Pendragon."

I gestured, and Arthur was caught out of time, motionless as he began to turn away on his heel.

The woman on the left hissed, "You dare use your magic in this place?"

The one on the right said, "Our place?"

The woman in the middle said, "Hello, Emrys."

"Emrys?"

"Emrys."

"You support his decision, Emrys?"

"You follow his leading?"

"Against your own kind?" said the woman on the left.

"Arthur is just and fair," I said, my heart in my throat. "I believe in him. He _is_ making changes, you just heard him. He is not Uther –" and where was the rune mark Uther Pendragon deserved? Decades he was left to rule, a bloody tyrant overseeing the Purge and its aftermath - "he does not persecute those with magic. But to accept magic back wholeheartedly – it is too soon, for Uther's son. Please –" I stepped forward, doing my utmost to be respectful, when I wanted to rant against the unfairness of _their_ choice. "Please, a little more time."

"Time, Emrys, is something _you_ will have plenty of."

"Whether your king has it, or not."

"Now, or hereafter."

I said again, "Please."

There was a moment of silence. Then the figure in the middle said, "The judgment will be held in abeyance."

"For a time."

"Only a time."

"How long do we have?" I asked, daring to feel hope.

"That is a question with three answers," the woman in the middle said. "You need concern yourself with only one."

"_Your_ answer."

"_Your_ time."

"A season for you, and for your king. One half of the year, son of magic."

"Could you be," I said delicately, "a little more specific, about what I need to accomplish in that time?"

"Revelation."

"Assume your identity."

"Tell him your name!" hissed the figure on the left.

"I have six months to tell Arthur I have magic?" I said, aghast.

"He will accept you –"

"Or he will not."

"And seal his doom."

"And – Mordred?" I dared.

"His life…"

"His fate…"

"His time is not in your hands," the central woman said. "Each to his own choices. Yours have bought you time."

"Six months."

"Half a year. Time – and Arthur."

The woman in the middle raised her head slightly, enough to meet my eyes, and Arthur completed his turn. "Come, Merlin," he said.

_Goodbye, Emrys_.

Six months. As a reprieve, it wasn't much. But it was something. I stumbled after Arthur, out of the cave, into the light.

**A/N: As a two-shot, I believe this can stand alone. But it may just connect with another similar fic I have in mind, concerning episode 5.13. I intend to title that one, "The Day in Crystal."**


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